Underneath the Sky of Blue
by SepticLovebite
Summary: Slowly, he started learning their names.
1. Gerda

Author's Note: Needed to get back into the swing of writing. I'm considering making this into a series, introducing Woodbury residents one by one, we shall see.

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Daryl didn't pay so much attention to the newcomers. He answered questions when directed at him, put the food on the table. Tried to push back the worry that came with having to feed so many more people, most of whom couldn't even do anything to help and concentrate on getting the damned food in the first place.

Slowly, he started learning their names.

Monique, thirteen years old. Her only family, her dad, shot by the Governor. She'd taken to following Beth around and looking at him with wide eyes whenever she saw his string of game.

Matthew, probably one of the oldest Woodbury residents. Didn't stop his yapping, but it turned out his yapping was worth something, because he knew a shit ton about mechanics. That had been helpful.

But his favourite of the newcomers was Gerda. She wore her snow white hair in a ponytail and smiled at everyone. It helped that Judith _loved_ her. She suffered with arthritis, like most of the old people, but unlike the others, she never breathed a word of complaint.

Daryl found nettle plants. Heard they helped with a bunch of stuff. Got stung to the elbows for them because there wasn't time to cut them properly. She'd watched him as he went to work on prepping them for her, smiling all the while. Then, later on, she'd silently handed him a tub of calamine lotion before heading back into the kitchen.

Yeah, he liked Gerda.

By the fall, squirrels were rife in the forest. Hadn't brought too many of them back, not when there had been deer and rabbit to take instead, but as they forests got quieter, they couldn't be picky.

Not that some of the Woodbury folks realised that. Daryl had been looking to hand the string of bushy tailed creatures to Carol, for her to cook them up before anyone saw them and got squeamish about what they were eating, but the woman in question was nowhere to be found.

She was doing a lot of that lately, disappearing. Daryl was used to finding her with the baby, or making meals. Not anymore. If he asked anyone where she was now, the answers he usually got mentioned perimeter walks and clearing out Walker-riddled cell blocks.

He had to push that worry back too, couldn't let it interfere with the things that had to get done. Carol was more than capable of doing those things and now there were other people to look after Judith, she had to do them.

So instead of Carol with her hands in a bowl of dishwater, there was Gerda.

"I'll just skin 'em for ya." He murmured to her, moving past her to the table but she lifted one soapy hand up to him.

"I can do it, darlin'." She smiled at him, waggled her fingers, indicating she wanted the string of game. She called _everyone_ darling. From Hershel down to Judith, it was a name she gave to everyone. He'd even heard her call a damn Walker darling, once.

"Ya sure? S'kinda tough meat. Tastes better if you soak it in sugar and-"

"Brown sugar and soy sauce. I know. I've made it before." She plucked the string from his fingers and hooked it on the nail sticking out from a cupboard before turning back to the dishwater.

Daryl eyed her back sharply. That trick, that marinade, was a Dixon recipe. Only Carol knew how to make squirrel taste good and that was because he'd taught her.

He shifted from foot to foot and wondered if he should question her further. He didn't like having to ask questions. So he decided not to and stepped away.

"Your brother was good to me, you know."

Daryl stopped in the doorway and stared at her, but Gerda barely glanced over her shoulder as she spoke.

"He had his troubles, so he did, but Merle, he did some good things. Looked after us old folks pretty good." She shot him a smile then, dried her hands on a cloth.

"Merle was an ass. He deserved 99% of what he got." He told her gruffly.

Gerda smiled sadly. "No-one deserves what that man did." She shook her head, as if shaking the bad thoughts out. "He shocked me, that first time he brought us squirrels for dinner. I didn't have a clue what to do with them. But he taught me. Used to bring me books over from the library, so I didn't have to go out in the rain."

Daryl had to scoff at that. He doubted Merle had ever set foot in a library in his whole damn life.

"It's true!" Gerda laughed. "Noah, Karen's boy. Got asthma. I can't even tell you how many times Merle went out on his own looking for pumps for that child. All by himself. And every time, he came with some. Every time. Your brother might have been an ass, darling, but he was good boy really. He loved you. Used to talk about you all the time. I knew the minute I laid eyes on you, exactly who you were."

There was nothing to say to that. He wanted to believe the old woman's words. Needed to believe they weren't the words of a foolish old lady, hoodwinked by Merle's silver tongue. Because nobody else was thinking anything good about his big brother. Not even him.


	2. Taylor

Author's Note: Thank you for the beautiful response!

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Jealousy was not an emotion that Carol was familiar with. In fact, it was so uncommon, it had taken her a few weeks to figure out what it was that she was feeling.

She'd always been the group mother. The housewife. The one to go to with splinters in thumbs or shirts missing buttons. She lent out everything from an ear, to her last tampon or her only pair of clean socks.

She was used to being needed, especially as the group got smaller, the amount of women in it dwindling.

She saw a lot of herself in Taylor. The women was a little younger than her, ten years or so and she had two children. Her boy, Samuel, was eight, her daughter, Sarah, was two. She was a quiet woman, who smiled softly and worked hard in the kitchen.

At night, she often passed the young woman's cell, to see her hunched over with a needle and thread, squinting into the darkness as she patched a shirt. A second glance, a double take, told her it was _Daryl's_ shirt. After all, only that man could be stubborn enough to persist in wearing holes into sleeveless shirts when they were on the threshold of a cold winter.

She'd looked at the mending basket only that morning with dismay. Frowned at the dirty clothes as though if she looked at them mean enough, they'd fix themselves. Taylor had offered to take them on with a smile. It wasn't like Carol herself had time for it anymore. She'd already been lined up to go down to the outside fence with Glenn, Maggie and Sasha, to get to work on fixing up the fencing.

And it had been like that for weeks. Days of being in the outdoors, sweating it out to get the prison into a secure home for them all. Found her previously pale and freckled skin turning to a golden brown under the last of the fall sunshine.

She was doing important stuff, fortifying their home. Keeping people safe. But she couldn't help the twinge of jealousy as she watched Taylor set down plates in front of Rick and Daryl and the way they thanked her eagerly before diving straight in for the kill. It took less than two minutes for them to clear the lot away.

Taylor clearly had been acting as a mother for all the Woodbury children, they followed her around as though she was the Pied Piper. She was good at it too. Balanced two children on her hips and still managed to do whatever chore was in front of her. A born mother.

When the leaves on the trees burned orange, died brown, Judith got her first tooth. The little one sobbed inconsolably for days. The nights were the worst. Her cries rang clear through the block, setting off the other little ones and keeping them all awake.

On this night, Judith had been sharing Beth's cell and her screams had reached fever pitch. Normally, she didn't get up when the baby cried, because a swarm of people around her only made things were worse.

"Here. Let me try." Her bare feet had found their way to Beth's space, three cells over and she scooped the baby out of the young girl's arm, gave her a tired smile. "Try to rest, I'll take care of her."

Judith's cries quietened for a moment, the rocking motion as Carol tiptoed back to her own cell soothing her somewhat. As she crossed the threshold, she stepped back in surprise, a figure lingering in the corner of the bleak room.

"Can I do somethin'?" Daryl pushed off the concrete walls, took a step closer to her and peered at Judith.

Carol shook her head sadly. "Just got to wait it out. If we had a refrigerator, something cold for her...it doesn't matter." She shook her head again. "We don't, so...just got to make do."

Judith cried out once more and both adults winced.

"Just go back to bed, no point everyone sitting up."

"Ain't no point, ain't nobody sleepin'." He slumped down at the foot of her mattress, tipped his head back against the wall.

It didn't make no difference who held her, who rocked her or whispered comforts. They mattered none to Judith. And as stupid as it seemed, it made her feel like a failure. This what she had been good at. Yet, it was the first time she had held the child in days.

She was fairly sure that dawn was coming when footsteps sounded down the corridor outside. Daryl lay slouched across the bed, one arm over his eyes whilst she perched on the edge by his hip, Judith resting on her neck, gumming at the fabric of her cardigan, grizzling loudly.

"I found something that might work." Taylor stood in the doorway, blocking what little light they had in the tiny room. She held out her hands for Judith and the baby's head turned to look at her.

Judith was still too young to express much of her feelings on the matter but Carol could feel the preference for the other women radiating from her tiny body.

Jealousy washed over her, she stood up sharply, held Judith out for the other women to take. But Taylor didn't see. Or perhaps she didn't care. Just kept smiling that sweet smile.

She looked down at Judith as she cradled her in the crook of her arm, her free hand slipping into her pocket and pulling out something slim and brightly coloured.

A toothbrush. Curiosity got the better of Carol and she watched Taylor push the brush into Judith's mouth and immediately, the little one started to gnaw loudly on the plastic. Her cries hushed and Taylor kept rocking her all the while.

"Finally." Daryl grunted behind her and Carol started. She'd forgotten he had been there. She felt embarrassed, naked. She knew her jealousy showed in her demeanor, not visible to Taylor, who was simply too damned _nice_ to see it, but would've been blindingly obvious to someone like Daryl, who'd known her so long.

"It gets to the back teeth." Taylor explained and Judith reached up as she spoke, wrapped her tiny fingers around a stray lock of the woman's hair.

Carol couldn't even bring herself to thank her for giving them all some peace. Couldn't do more than turn away with a brief nod.

"I'll take her in with me. Sarah'll be up soon enough."

When it became clear that Carol was not going to answer, Daryl sat up, grunted a thanks. Taylor beamed and set off down the hall, whispering to Judith all the while. It did nothing more than make her curl her lip in disdain and she hated herself for it.

"Should be glad somebody got her to shut up." Daryl said, leaning back onto the mattress and settling his arms behind his head.

She folded her arms, looked down at him. "I am. You going to hog my bed all night?" She snapped.

Daryl looked at her for a second, hurt flickering over his features before standing up quickly and stalking out of the cell without a backwards glance.

Carol let out a frustrated groan. No, she did not like this thing called jealousy very much at all.


	3. Noah

**Thank you for your time.**

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"He has asthma, he can't be running around the place like the rest of you." Karen folded her arms and moved to stand between her son and Daryl, ignoring the fact that her son did not want to be shielded at all.

"No, Mom -" Noah, pushed aside but Karen threw her arm out to hold him back.

Daryl just rolled his eyes and turned away, went straight back to work on loading up the two assault rifles in front of him. Rick shot him a look and took over.

"I know." Rick held out his hands, trying to calm Karen. "He's not going to be doing any running. But that doesn't mean he is useless to this group, Karen. He's going to do his bit like everyone else and I don't want him wasted on laundry duty when he's a damn good sniper."

Karen let out a gasp of indignation and Daryl snorted. He'd been the one to spot Noah's ability with a long range weapon and as of yet, hadn't seen a single asthma attack. He strongly suspected Karen to be guilty of mollycoddling and didn't have the patience for it.

"Fuck this." He muttered under his breath and shouldered both rifles before scooping up his crossbow. "I'm going up the tower." He looked past both Rick and Karen to meet eyes with Noah. "You want target practice, you better be there in five. I ain't offerin' again."

It took six minutes, but sure enough, the kid turned up. He wasn't going to hold one minute against him, not when he had to compete against the vice-like grip of his mother.

"Sorry." Noah muttered as he shut the charred door of the guard tower. Daryl didn't pull his eyes off of the cluster of Walkers at the edge of the fence on the south side, all throwing themselves uselessly at the wire. Harmless when there was only three or four of them, not so harmless if more collected and their combined weight sent their first line of defence crumbling down.

"Those." He pointed the group out to the young boy by his side. "Take 'em all out." Daryl shouldered his own gun and took a step back, ready to let Noah to take the shots. Behind wire with the sun in his eyes, it would certainly be a challenge, but he had faith in this kid, knew he was up for it.

Daryl could hear chatter coming from the yard, gave a glance down to see Karen looking up at them, arms folded defensively. Noah didn't break concentration from his shooting but Daryl couldn't resist curling his lip into a sneer.

But it fell a little from his face when he realised who she was talking too. Carol came behind the curly haired woman, rested a hand on her shoulder. He could tell from her tone of voice that she placating Karen, although he had no clue what she was saying.

He didn't really get the way the way those two were with each other. Carol hadn't really taken to many of the Woodbury lot. She barely mixed with any of them. Always had a smile for one of the kids, if she saw them, or laughed with the old timers at dinner, particularly the men, but she had little time for the women. She was downright rude to Taylor and one of the other mothers and he was beginning to think his own abrasive nature was rubbing off on her.

But as much as it wasn't any of his business about how she was with the others, as long as she was the way she always had been with him, it did bug him a little. It just wasn't _her_.

She wasn't happy. But he didn't quite know why, or how to fix it. Or even if it needed to be fixed. Maybe she'd get used to it and pull through on her own. But then, he remembered, he was trying his damnedest to be pissed off with her. He'd barely thrown a word her way since she'd lost her temper with him several nights ago.

Carol looked up from her conversation, squinted into the sunlight and gave him a brief wave, smiled at him. He let the sneer slide away complete and gave her a nod back. He wasn't going to smile for nobody.

"I did it!" Noah's joyful announcement pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

"That was too easy." Daryl grunted. He scanned the landscape for another cluster. There were two small groups, further up the fence and he pointed them out. "All of 'em. You got three minutes."

He had no watch to time the boy, but it didn't matter.

"Noah Stevenson!" Karen's yell drifted up in the wind. "You get your butt down here this instant or so help me, I will -"

"Will you _can_ it?" He couldn't help but shout down over the railings at Karen, her whining was doing his damn head in. "Maybe go and do somethin' useful like your fuckin' kid is."

Karen's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

"Daryl!" Carol stepped forward in front of the curly haired woman, hands resting on her hips. He didn't dare look at her face too closely, but even that one word spoken at him voiced her displeasure.

He snorted and turned back to Noah who stared at him, wide-eyed and agape. "You done? I didn't hear no shots."

The boy shook his head fearfully.

"Fuckin' get on it, already gone an' lost over a minute." He snapped at the kid who jumped to attention and immediately peppered bullets into the distance.

As the light started to fade, they stacked the weapons back up in silence and Daryl could hear footsteps as the next pair for watch arrived.

"So, I spoke to Carol the other day." Noah rushed the words out, probably frightened that he wouldn't get to speak them otherwise. Daryl didn't blame him, he knew his patience had reached an all time low. "She said, that sometimes, asthma can be helped if I built up my stamina. Like, ran a little bit, get my body used to it."

Daryl grunted. Shrugged. He didn't know shit about things like that, but it made some sense. Stood to reason if you did something for long enough, you'd build a resistance to it. Besides, the kid needed to run. It was the best defence against Walkers.

"I was wondering, you know, if you'd help, with that."

The handle on the door turned and figures loomed in the doorway. Carol and Sasha.

The younger woman gave him a grin and went straight to Noah, ruffling his hair and helping with the guns. Carol's feet found their way to him and she stood in front of him, arms folded.

"I spoke with Karen. She'll allow the gun lessons to continue." She spoke quietly, threw a glance to make sure Noah wasn't listening.

"I don't give a fuck what she thinks." He shouldered his crossbow and gave her a hard stare.

"She's his mother. She's in charge of her child. And being downright rude to her is not helping anyone." She said snappily, snatching the rifle off the table by his hip.

"Yeah, well you'd know all about that, with your best buddy Taylor." Daryl retorted, brushing past her for the steps. Carol lurched forward for his hand but he shrugged her off as her fingers made contact with his skin.

Noah turned to follow him and the sight of the kid gave him a thought.

He cleared his throat, made sure his voice would be loud enough to carry up the stairs. "Hey, you can come huntin' with me tomorrow. Work on that runnin'." Smirked as Noah nodded eagerly. "Fuck what ya mama thinks."

He was pretty sure he could hear Carol's indignant gasp even from the bottom of the tower.


	4. Matthew

Thanks for all your time spent reading and reviewing.

I've been considering writing something of a mini-series that would prequel Cadence. it totally would depend on the desire for something like that as I do have this to carry on with. It would all fit in the M rating, which is not everyone's cup of tea. If you haven't read Cadence, please check it out and maybe let me know what you think over there.

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The wheezing and groaning had Carol pushing herself off of the watchtower wall and pulling the rifle of the back, seeking out the source of the noise. It was coming from the the doorway and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought Walkers had learnt how to climb ladders.

She finally plucked the courage to get a little closer, as liver-spotted hands curled over the metal and a brown flat cap came into view.

"Matthew!" Carol got on her hands and knees and helped the elderly man up onto the walk way. "What are you doing? You can't be up here!"

The elderly man didn't answer immediately, just stood there, catching his breath as he dusted off his sweater.

"Matthew." She pressed for an answer and peered over the railings to see if anyone was going to follow him but there was no-one on the ground below. Not even Daryl, who was supposed to be on watch with her.

"That man of yours is causing a ruckus down there." Matthew wandered around the walkway, took a good look at the Walkers down at the fence.

"Daryl?" He might not have been her man, but she knew exactly who Matthew spoke of.

"Took Karen's boy outta the prison. She is not best pleased." He picked up a rifle from against the wall and held it up to his face, looked through the scope to peer at the Walkers more closely. "Didn't think he was going to make watch for a little while, so I thought I'd take over. Gettin' sick of playing Sudoku with a bunch of old people."

Carol chuckled. "Aren't you the oldest?" She put her hand on the barrel of the rifle, pushed it down so it pointed at the floor. "Have you used a gun before?" It was a valid question, most of the people from Woodbury hadn't ever touched a gun.

"Young lady, I am from an era where we got our meat from the fields and forests, not the the freezer aisle at Walmart." He said and slung the gun over his shoulder. "Now, Daryl. Seems to me, that something has gotten him all in a lather. He's hell bent on causin' strife between Karen and Noah. Think you could help with that?"

Carol sighed. It seemed that every time they spoke to one another, they snapped. She could barely mention Noah or Karen and Daryl would snarl some sort of rebuttal, something about teaching the boy how to look out for himself, for the rest of them.

"He's not going to listen to me. Not at the moment."

"Sounds like it's got less to do with those two, more to do with you, if you don't mind me sayin'."

She cringed inwardly. Matthew was right. She couldn't be certain, but she was fairly sure that the whole thing was to do with her. She'd pissed him off. Ever since that night where Judith had cried for hours and she brushed him off, he'd backed away from her. Mistook her behaviour as a personal slight and now he was doing everything in his power to build up the walls they'd taken so much care to break down.

Out of all the Woodbury folks, Karen was the one she'd found something in common with. A woman like herself, to come from a domesticated life, to find herself thrust into this world with no preparation. She couldn't put her finger on why she preferred her over any other woman, but she did. And Daryl knew it. He was trying to alienate her by aggravating Karen.

She could barely contain her disgust for these people, for some of the things they had participated in, what they stood by and watched happen. Like urging on two brothers to fight to the death. She took small refuge in the one person from that group who didn't make her feel sick.

"I don't disagree with what he's doing. From what I hear, Noah is coming on leaps and bounds. They are working around his asthma." She looked away from Matthew. He grimaced a little.

"Pardon my language, Carol, but cut the crap. Daryl Dixon is lookin' for a reaction from you. Every time he says anything that's gonna rile Karen up, he ain't lookin' at her, he's lookin' at you. That boy is like the kid in the schoolyard, tuggin' on your braids."

"I-It's not - What I mean to say, it's not quite like that." She blushed scarlet, held up her free hand to her cheek in a vain attempt to hide it. "It's taken a long time, to be used to each other. Just our little group. It's been hard, to have it more than doubled so quickly."

Matthew nodded knowingly. "That boy ain't good with people."

"Neither am I. Forgotten how, I guess. It's my fault." Carol sighed. Her and Daryl, it had turned into a total mess. Once again, she found herself angry with the people of Woodbury, for taking the best thing she had going on in her life and twisting it out of her fingertips.

_No_. She tried to shake the thought out of her head. That wasn't fair. It wasn't anyone else's fault. They were virtual strangers.

There was no time to think on it any further. There was a commotion below and she and Matthew both peered over the handrail to see figures emerge from the shadows.

There was a hushed and furious argument going on between Rick and Daryl, both gesticulating wildly. Carol frowned. This was no good. Whatever this was, this tangled mess they'd all seemed to have gotten in, it had to stop. If it could even have Rick and Daryl arguing, then she knew it had to be the worst kind of trouble.

"Time to fix this mess, young lady." Matthew put the rifle back up against the wall and gave her shoulder a squeeze. He stood at the top of the ladder and began to descend it in an achingly slow manner. "Hey, give an old man a hand, fellas?"

Both men on the ground looked up, grimaced at the sight before them. Rick came rushing forward first, grasping Matthew by the arm as he made it towards the ground, immediately chastising him for going up there in the first place.

But Daryl, he wasn't looking much at Matthew, in fact, once Carol saw that Matthew had both feet placed firmly on the dry, hard earth, she tore her eyes away to find that they met his.

He blinked then, muttered something at Matthew, something derisive, judging by his body language and began the climb up the tower.

Carol pulled away from the edge and walked around to the other side. She rolled her shoulders, tried to settle herself despite the thrumming of her heart. He was going to tell her off for letting Matthew up the tower, she could feel it.

His boots hit the metal of the walkway and he tugged the crossbow from his back, picking up a rifle instead. He dawdled by the steps, although she didn't turn back to check, probably waiting to make sure the others got back inside safely.

"He shouldn't be up here." Daryl's voice was gravelly, quiet and low.

She turned her head sharply to look at him. He stood a few foot away and he wasn't looking at her. He stared out at the forest a few hundred yards away, where a Walker stumbled out into the clearing and tripped over a fallen branch.

"Well, I did consider pushing him down the ladder, but figured that might contradict the whole point of bringing the Woodbury folks here." She snorted at her own pathetic attempt at humour.

Daryl did not smile. Did not grant her with even an acknowledgement. He turned on his heel and stood in the exact opposite spot to hers. They hardly got to do much together now. He was out hunting a lot. She kept herself busy with the physical labours of securing the prison and it's grounds. That night she snapped at him, it seemed to have been the final straw. Now he went out of his way to avoid her.

"I want to fix this. I'm not sure how." She couldn't hide the shame in her voice. She'd always managed to fix_ everything. _No-one ever came to her with a problem that she couldn't solve.

Daryl gave her a side-eye and shrugged. Like he didn't know what she was talking about. But his thumb slipped into his mouth and he tugged at a hangnail. He knew, she could tell. Knew his little quirks far too well.

"These people coming here...it's been more difficult than I ever thought it could be." Carol took a step forward, tried to get him to hold her gaze. His body shifted imperceptibly, turning to face her just a little. "Gotten a little spoilt. I've had to get used to sharing."

Daryl looked up, his curiosity piqued and one eyebrow raised questioningly. "Share what? You want somethin'? Tell me an' I'll go get it, you know that."

Carol smiled at his naivety. She knew he spoke the truth. Daryl _would've_ gotten her anything she asked. If she felt it important.

"Sharing t_hings_ is easy. It's not so easy to share other stuff." It was hard to explain. "The stuff I did before, don't get to do that anymore. Sharing people..." She groaned, shook her head. "Look, I know it sounds dumb. I'm trying to get a handle on it. I'm sorry I've been a jerk."

She could tell by his face that he really didn't get it. But he was listening to her. That was enough. Perhaps it was better that he didn't understand her pathetically jealous thoughts.

"You ain't a jerk."

He shuffled a few steps over and touched her shoulder. She couldn't help but push herself into his touch. Didn't realise how much she'd missed his friendship. Karen was nice. But she was no Daryl.

He looked behind her, narrowed his eyes at something over her shoulder and took the gun into both hands. He popped off several bullets, took out a small cluster of Walkers at the fence.

They went back to the silence that often fell on those taking watch. But it felt better, easier.

"Thinking about goin' out huntin', maybe take a trip out to that village just north of Woodbury, see what's there. Wanna go?" The sky was darkening, the horizon turning a dusky purple.

This was his apology. His way of making amends. "Think you'd have your hands full with me and Noah."

"I ain't askin' Noah. I'm askin' you. Besides, you can handle your own nowadays." He shrugged once more.

She could hear voice down on the ground below. Carl and Tyreese.

"Alright, then. Tomorrow?"

Daryl nodded. "If you like." He gave her the faintest smile and gestured for her to head for the ladder.

"You haven't taken me hunting for ages." She said.

"Yeah, well turns out Noah might be able to hit a target, but takin' him out into the forest is like invitin' a bull into a china shop." He muttered the reluctant admission and Carol let out a tinkling laugh that floated into the evening air.

"Well, not everyone can be a twinkle-toes." She snickered and not even Daryl could hide the grin that broke free.

"Shut up."


	5. Monique

Author's Notes: Thank you for your excellent reads and reviews!

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The kids were easier to handle than the adults, he found.

The real little ones, the babies, which to him was any of them that was too young to tie their shoelaces properly, they were basic creatures. Food, sleep, toys. It was was easy enough to placate them. Better yet, he didn't _have_ to placate them.

Daryl Dixon didn't play with no damn dolls. Not even for Asskicker.

The adults, well he did his damned best to keep out of their way. It wasn't too hard, he got to go out hunting and scavenging everyday. There wasn't ever enough food to take a day off.

He went with the people he could tolerate. People he'd spent over a year learning to get on with. The new kid, Noah, was alright. He found himself enjoying the progress the boy was making. He especially enjoyed the way it irked the hell out of Noah's mother. He loathed it when people told others they couldn't do something.

But the ones in between, the kids that had to grow up way too quick, those ones he didn't know how to handle. So he chose to ignore them and for the most part, they ignored him too.

All except one.

"Have you seen Carol?" The voice was timid and quiet and when Daryl turned to look at the person speaking to him, he couldn't help but grimace.

Someone _always_ wanted a piece of Carol. She'd just come from the second night watch and straight away she had to go help with yet another of Carl's tantrums with Rick and by the time she'd gotten something to eat, the whole prison was up and about, which would make sleep almost impossible.

The girl in front of him, Monique, was just a slip of a thing. Barely spoke and always skirted past him if their crossed paths, her big brown eyes watery and wide. He knew she didn't have any family left alive and that she was thirteen. It was all he needed to know.

"She's busy." He took care not to be too rough with his words. It wouldn't be the first time he made a kid from Woodbury cry if he upset her. It was just the two of them in the old cafeteria, she stood in the way of his escape and he was regretting going on the hunt for another bottle of water.

"But..." Monique tugged on the end of one dark braid twisted it until it was coiled around her index finger. "I need to talk to her."

"S'gonna have to wait til' later. Or go bug someone else." He told her with a shrug, before stepping closer and ushering her out of his way with one hand.

She scuttled back a couple of steps and looked at him forlornly as he strode past her. She just looked plain _sad_. Fuck these kids and their guilt-tripping.

"Look, just go find Beth or somethin'.

"She's busy!" Monique cried out, dropping the braid from her finger and following him out the door.

"Glenn is in the yard, go ask him."

"I _can't_." Her voice was desperate now. "It's girl stuff."

His blood ran cold and a lump formed in his throat. _Fuck_. Why him? Why did she even have to say the words at all? Fuck, why couldn't she go bug one of the mothers, or the Greene girls or anyone but Carol and therefore him too?

The silence between them lasted a beat too long and all of a sudden, Monique let out a loud sniff, followed by the choking sound he knew would be followed up by a barely contained sob.

"Shit, girl, don't cry, for Christ's sake." He muttered at her. He was now confused. If it was girl's stuff, what was he supposed to do?

Oh yeah. Tell her where Carol was.

"Maggie and Karen are up in the watchtower. Beth is busy, I don't wanna talk to anyone else! It's _embarrassing_!" Her cheeks flushed and she hissed the words out at him, snatched at the hem of his shirt and tugged.

He recoiled. He couldn't help it. Even though he knew it were ridiculous. She was a child. A little kid. It wasn't even like _girl stuff_ was contagious.

"Alright. Come on then." He sighed and shook her off his shirt and she meekly followed him as he lead her through the cell block, ignoring the curious looks of the people they passed on the way.

They came to an abrupt halt outside Carol's cell, where a green sheet hung haphazardly over the doorway, a futile attempt at blocking out some of the light and noise outside and giving her the smallest amount of privacy.

"Wait here." Daryl ordered Monique and set his crossbow against the wall of the corridor.

He was careful to pull back the sheet quietly, opening it just enough to slid in and for it to fall closed behind him.

Carol lay on her back, fully clothed, boots and all. He liked that. She was ready for anything, her gun propped up against the foot of the bed, her knife on the stool next to her head. Her arm lay over her eyes and he stepped forward carefully, touched her wrist.

She froze under the touch, moved her arm away and her eyes snapped open fearfully. "What's wrong?" She wasn't waiting for an answer, she was sliding off the bed and snatching up her weapons.

"Calm down. Ain't nothin' serious." And now it seemed really stupid. Waking up Carol and _scaring_ her, because some kid thought talking to anyone else was embarrassing? He was losing it, he had to be.

Carol frowned, dropping the knife back onto the stool.

"Monique needs you. Some girl shit I don't even wanna know about." He grumbled. "She said it had to be you." His face had flushed red, he could feel it.

The confusion slid off her face with the realisation of what exactly was needed from her. "Where is she?"

Monique tugged the sheet back before he could answer, clearly having listened to their conversation. Without invitation, she stepped in front of them both and they all stood in silence. His gaze jumped between Carol and the girl, neither one of them making a move.

"_Go away!_" Monique hissed between her gritted teeth, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she couldn't quite hold his gaze, despite the ferociousness of her words.

It was all the incentive he needed, he was out of there before anyone could say anymore. But he couldn't bring himself to go too far. He waited outside Carol's cell, trying to ignore Carol's reassuring words, forcing himself to ignore their meaning and focus on their soothing tone instead.

A few minutes later, although it seemed like forever, the sheet moved and Carol slid through the smallest of gaps and pulled it back, holding it close to the wall, making sure nothing could be seen behind it.

She gave him a small smile but didn't say anything. She didn't seem to want an explanation as to why he still standing there, or how he even came to be there in the first place. Like always, Carol seemed to ask very little from him.

Another couple of minutes ticked by and Monique's small voice called out to Carol once more and with another sweet smile, she disappeared back inside.

What the hell kind of girl crap took this long?

"Daryl." Carol called him from behind the sheet. "Come in for a second."

"Nah, I'm good." He replied all too quickly. He kept his back to the cell entrance, just in case. His mind was full of scary shit as it was, there was no way he was allowing it to be further tainted by the worst thing of all, girls and their _stuff_.

"Get in."

Her voice made him jump, the words murmured right by his ear and her hand curled around his wrist, tugging him inside.

There had been no evidence that anything had gone on in his absence. Monique stood in front of Carol's cot, twisting one of her braids nervously and looking at the floor. Daryl couldn't help but match her stance.

"Monique would like you to promise that you aren't going to tell everyone about what's gone on." He didn't have to look at Carol to know she was smiling, her voice sounded on the cusp of gentle laughter. Not laughing at him or Monique. No, he knew Carol would never do that. For some reason, she always seemed to think a lot of him.

"I don't know what the fuck just happened and I don't wanna think 'bout it ever again." He gave them both hard stares, ones that dared them to even think about any other option.

Monique lifted her head up and gave him the biggest grin he'd ever seen from her. "Thank you." She murmured.

Carol handed her a paper bag, battered and stained, but did the job of concealing its contents, Daryl tried not to consider what they might have been.

"Come see me if you need anything else. Take it easy today, go help Beth with Judith or something." She gave the girl a hug and ushered her out the doorway. "I'll check on you later."

He waited until he heard her footsteps fade away before he looked back at Carol. "Sorry I woke you." He mumbled apologetically.

"I'm glad you woke me." Carol slumped back onto her cot. "It's hard being thirteen. It's hard being thirteen in this world without a mom." She brought her feet up onto the mattress and laid out on it, propping herself up on her elbows. "You're a good man, you know that?" She smiled lazily and yawned.

"So you keep tellin' me." He grumbled lightly, heading for the exit.

Carol lounged back onto the pillow and rested one of her arms back over her eyes. "Yeah, maybe one day you'll believe it."


	6. Bob

Author's Notes: Thanks you guys, for reading and reviewing both this story and Rhythmus! Much love to you all!

* * *

There were some members of Woodbury that Carol could never learn to get on with. Old people and children, they had to depend on the more able. Women like she had been in her old life, weak and incapable. She might not like all of them, but she understood their position. To have no choice but to accept the way things were at Woodbury, in order to keep their own lives.

But the ones who were capable, who could've survived out on the road, like she and the others had for so long, she couldn't couldn't even look them in the eye. Daryl remembered some of their faces. He barely spoke of his time in Woodbury, but she knew that he was pitted against his brother in order to survive. He never said who he recognized, but she could tell by the look on his face.

Daryl remembered Bob Stookey. And so, she found herself with a bad taste in her mouth every time she caught sight of him.

Why did he stay in Woodbury? He was a medic. An Army medic. There was no reason for him to depend on the likes of the Governor.

Trouble was, he seemed to be everywhere.

"Hey Carol." Bob, leaned against the doorway to her cell, where she sat threading new laces through new boots. Or new to her at least.

She gave him a tight smile but didn't say a word. She'd tried polite disinterest and the man did not take a hint.

"So, I know you've been busy, but Hershel says you'd been quite the keen student with the medical training. I've got some stitches to take out on Glenn today, I wondered if you wanted to do it." He ran a hand over the back of his neck and beamed. His teeth gleamed white. Someone clearly hadn't neglected their dental health over the last eighteen months. Another reason to hate him, added to her ever growing list.

"I'm busy." She glanced back down at the boot in her hands.

"Ah, but you are always busy. I've been asking after you for a few weeks now." Bob moved further into the room and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's important to pass this knowledge on. Just in case."

"Like I said, I'm busy." She knew her pathetic attempt at a smile was not fooling anyone. "Maybe one of the mothers would be better suited."

Bob didn't say a word and watched her thread the lace through the last of the eyelets. He sighed once and plucked at a loose thread on her blankets. "Carol, I know that you are almost entirely responsible for Hershel surviving his amputation. I also know that you are Daryl's go-to for any kind of fix up. And boy, does that man seem to scrape himself up good every other day."

She bristled at that. There was entirely different reasons for Daryl choosing to let her patch him up and she wasn't about to discuss that with Bob Stookey. "I hardly was responsible for Hershel's life. It was a team effort and sheer luck." She told him acidly. "I am_ busy_. I'm going hunting with Daryl this morning and I've already promised Rick I'd go on a run with him this afternoon. That might mean we're out until tomorrow. I really don't have the time for anything that someone else can do."

Carol kicked off her ankle boots and tossed them under the bed. They'd lasted her months, but since she'd began her more intense physical role within the group, since the people from Woodbury arrived, they'd gotten worn down rapidly, leaving her with wet socks every time she left the prison. The new ones fit well, but it would take some getting used to wearing such heavy duty attire.

Bob sighed and smoothed out the creases in his pant legs before standing up. God, she really didn't like him. "You don't like me, but I don't know why."

Carol double knotted the second boot and looked up at him. He did look genuinely confused. It didn't make her feel any more amiable towards him. Usually, she was quite good at soothing hurt feelings. Patching over cracks. She was not feeling so gracious today. Not when she was exhausted from the previous day of digging up dirt to plant seedlings only to go on, ready to do twice as much on this day.

"Look, this isn't summer camp, Bob. I'm here to survive, not to make some new best friends. I'm happy with who I have." She tugged on her jacket and zipped it up. Her knife lay on the bedside table in its sheath and she threaded it through the jacket belt and knotted the belt around her middle, as tight she could.

Bob pulled a face.

"Hey." Daryl had silently appeared at the doorway and eyed them both suspiciously. "You ready to go?" He looked pointedly at her, ignoring Bob. He was good at that, when he wanted to be. As subtle as a freight train.

"Yeah. Two minutes, just need to load my gun." She shook the box of ammunition to demonstrate.

Daryl nodded. "You alright?"

She feigned a bright smile. She was not _not_ alright, but Bob was tiring her. But she could handle Bob.

Daryl nodded once more and gave Bob a lingering look, a glare almost, before turning on his heel and striding down the cell block.

"Look, I like you. I want to be your friend." He leaned forward and rested his hand over her busy fingers, pushing bullets into the chamber of her gun.

Carol pulled away. "Like I said, I've got my friends. Nothing personal." She tried to convince herself that is wasn't _quite_ a lie.

"Daryl?" Bob asked. "I mean, is he your friend? Like..._you know_."

It occurred to her that it was strange that Bob wanted to know something like that. Like he was sweet on her and wanted to know the lay of the land. But he hadn't really flirted with her. Or maybe he was and she was just completely unable to see it. But if it kept him from asking anymore questions or bothering her to do things that she didn't need to do, then she was prepared to stretch some truth.

"Yes." She holstered the gun and stuffed her pocket with extra rounds, nodding definitively. "He is."

She didn't wait for him to respond.

Daryl was waiting for her when she stepped outside, he sat in the truck, one arm hanging out the window, in his fingers, dangled a cigarette. Except he wasn't smoking it. He was rolling it between his fingers, forcing the tobacco to crumbling out from the end. He snapped up when he realised she was approaching.

He wouldn't ask her. She knew he would never pry. Not unless it was absolutely vital. But she wanted to tell him.

"Boy, that man sure is persistent." She said conversationally, slamming the truck door as the engine gunned up.

Daryl gave her a side eye but didn't say anything as Carl pulled the prison gates open. Carol gave him a wave as they sped away from the prison.

They went a couple of miles in comfortable silence but Carol did not miss the way Daryl fidgeted in the driver's seat. One hand on the wheel, fingers tapping a rhythm, his other hand at his mouth, worrying the skin on this thumb with his teeth.

"You want me to tell him to back off?" He asked finally, not quite looking at her.

"You think he needs telling?"

"If his cluckin' around you is bothersome, then you know I'm gonna do somethin'." He slowed the truck to a stop and pulled his crossbow off the floor by her feet. "Wait here."

He scanned the area for any sign of life or any more Walkers than they could handle before letting out a short, sharp whistle. His signal that it was safe for her to come out.

"I don't need help." She told him as they walked towards the greenery stretched out in front of them. "I mean, he was tiring, but I think he knows what's what now."

Daryl scratched at some tracks on the ground with the toe of his boot. Or at least she thought they were tracks. She really wasn't all that great with tracking, despite having gone out hunting with him a lot.

"Yeah?" Daryl turned them sharply to the right, through the brush.

"Yes." The word came out more sure than she thought. Sure enough for Daryl to stop and turn around to look at her. Like something was expected of him but the prospect terrified him.

"Don't look so scared." She chuckled and took a step closer so they were only a foot apart. His skin flushed but he didn't move. Emboldened, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and lingered there. He didn't move for a moment and then his hand came up, landed on her hip, fingers closing on the bone.

And then there was a rustle from behind them, a doe, startled by their appearance and he let go, twisting around to stalk after it.

Carol smiled to herself and followed him into the green.


	7. Stephen

Author's Notes: Thanks for your reads and reviews. There something about this that really sucks and I can't pin point it. I'm sorry, anyway.

* * *

Stephen was one of the few people in the prison that Daryl had zero tolerance for.

For a start, he was utterly useless. Sure, he was a pensioner, like most of the new folk, his body didn't work as well as it used to, but even the most elderly residents did something to contribute to the lives of the group.

Stephen did nothing. He claimed to be unable to cook. He did not know how to use a weapon of any kind. Claimed he couldn't see too good and therefore couldn't take watch. Hated the kids. Didn't know how to patch a shirt, or how to change a car tyre, or even how to pluck a wild turkey.

So in Daryl's book, Stephen was worthless.

He wasn't even that old, not in comparison to some. Like Matthew, who had to be creeping up to eighty, yet spent every day tinkering with their vehicles, even Daryl's bike, and when they were cleaned up good, moved onto the generators. The man didn't stop.

Maya Ramirez had already told him she was seventy five and even with her chronic arthritis, she would tend to the children, or sit at the cafeteria table and chop vegetables for stew.

Hell, even the kids took their turn. Gracie, hardly even three, helped the women fold shirts and pair up socks. Samuel was getting some schooling on how to skin squirrels, at the tender age of six.

But Stephen was one of those men Daryl would've hated no matter the state of world. One of those men who's entire living was dedicated to taking money from those who had less than him. Who thought he was entitled to whatever he pleased.

Yeah, Stephen was an asshole. And he was working on Daryl's last nerve.

"Hey, sweetheart, do an old man a favour and make me a cup of coffee." Stephen sat on a chair just outside his cell, watching the goings on of the ground floor of the block.

His comment was directed at Carol, as always. Because, as well as being a lazy jackass, he topped it off with being a sexist piece of shit. She looked from her spot at the corner table, gave him a tired look and sighed.

"I'm busy." She told him flatly, hands never stopping once. But Daryl did not miss the way her knuckles tightened around the rag in her hand, wiping up and down the barrel of her gun.

He sat beside her, fixing up his crossbow and Noah and Monique sat on her other side. It had started out as a lesson for the two young teenagers but the last hour had been spent in near silence, with only his quiet murmurs of correction when one of the kids did something not quite right.

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cursing at the old man. He wanted nothing more than to get right in his face and yell, but he had _promised_ he wouldn't.

Not after the last time.

* * *

He'd ignored it the first couple of times Stephen had barked orders about. After all, he didn't really give a shit what other people did, as long as the work that needed to get done was completed.

Then the other man took it too far for his liking. Carol always kept her cool, a feat which left him wondering how. True, his own temper had mellowed somewhat since he'd been with the group, but that was mostly down to how they all knew each so well, no-one provoked anyone else and they'd all gotten used to each other's ways. But Carol, she was the ultimate in even tempered.

"Carol, you sure do look like you know how to work those hands." Stephen's voice was sickly sweet and he leaned over the side of his chair to watch Carol work on her hands and knees, untangling a huge pile of bungee cords. "My feet are aching somethin' awful today, could do with a little of those capable fingers."

Daryl's head snapped up at the mention of Carol's name. He'd been on his way out of the cell block and he watched the elder man from the shadows.

"Afraid I can't help you." Carol told him, her eyes fixed on the work in front of her.

Stephen didn't seem all that bothered by the rebuff, just settle back further in his chair. "Shouldn't be out there doin' all the man's work, you know. Plenty of others there to take care of that.."

"Oh, like you?" Her voice was laced with sarcasm and Daryl smirked to himself. She was getting good at holding her own like this, sassy as fuck. He loved it.

"No, hon, I've earned my quiet life. Time for the young guns to take care of the old folks now. But still, ain't no reason for you to sweat yourself to death out there. Kitchen's a much safer shot." He told her authoritatively, giving a regal wave in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Last I checked, nobody's earned the right to a quiet life now. We all do our part to stay alive. It isn't the same anymore." Carol snapped. She jerked upright and grasped several of the loose cords in her fist.

"Ain't ever been a woman I've ever met who can handle a gun worth a damn." Stephen said.

Carol let out a gasp of indignation and her cheeks flushed red and Daryl quickly decided he'd heard enough. He stormed back into the block and strode right up to wear Stephen sat.

"You oughta keep your mouth shut, you hear?" He leaned over him, got his face up real close. "Sick o' hearin' you bark your shit to everyone. Talk down to her again, you'll regret it." The threat was vague but it was enough to have the other man looking fearful. Especially as Daryl curled one fist, drawing it up and back a little.

"Daryl." Carol was behind him, pulling him back by one shoulder but he didn't let her jerk him too far back.

"Hell, maybe we'll just take you out to the yard, let Carol get a little target practice in. See how good a woman can really shoot." He sneered, finally letting Carol tug him away.

Stephen didn't say a word the entire time and Daryl kept his eyes focused on the man as Carol's hand slid down his arm, grasping his wrist in her free hand as they made their way down the block.

"Don't do that." She hissed softly, but her voice wasn't all that cross.

"That asshole has it coming, lazy fu-"

"I can defend myself." Carol cut him off, dropping his wrist and turning to face him. "I know you're doing it help, but please, let me do it."

He looked at her uneasily. He wasn't about to stand by and watch as Carol took a bunch of crap of that idiot. Any idiot. No, that was not about to happen, at all. He shook his head. "He's gotta learn some manners. He's disrespectin' you, Carol. And I ain't gonna let him do that."

Carol raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms. "So you're gonna prove him right, then?"

He was confused. Did she not even hear what he just said?

"He's a sexist. He thinks I can't do the same job in that watchtower that any of the men can. That I belong in front of the stove. I've been working my ass off for months so that I can stop being that person, Daryl. I'm more than just the housewife. By you speaking for me, you're just proving to him that I can't tell him where to go."

His mouth opened and shut like a goldfish. There really wasn't a response to that. He didn't mean to be that guy. Never, ever.

Carol smiled at him. "I know why you're doing it. And I'm glad." She bit her lip coyly and reached for his hand once more. "I can take care of assholes like Stephen."

Daryl tore his eyes from the ground and looked to her as she stroked his knuckles with her thumb.

He grunted an affirmative. "I got ya."

"Promise?" She asked, leaning forward. She exhaled and he felt the heat of her breath on his neck.

"Promise."

She steadied herself with a hand on his hip and got closer. So close he could practically taste her. She gave him goosebumps. Carol closed the gap and pressed her lips lightly on his. Plump and soft, her lips tasted salty, the remnants of the meat they ate for lunch.

But all too quickly she pulled away with a grin and lead him back into the cell block. Stephen was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Despite his promise, it was still difficult to keep his mouth shut.

He had to get up and walk away from it and he decided to take a walk up to his cell to pick up his quiver. Stephen's voice trailed upwards, echoing off the walls as he spoke.

"Really honey, your coffee has gotta be so much better than Gerda's. Woman has no idea how to brew the damn stuff." Stephen hefted his weight out of the chair and from his bird's eye view, Daryl watched him circle around the little table, hands clasped behind his back, like some little small-dicked dictator.

"You need to make sure the safety is switched on, you know." He pointed out to Monique, who looked from him to Carol, frowning.

"No, you don't, Monique. That Glock doesn't have a safety switch." Carol put down the weapon in her hand. "I think we're done here, you two." She handed Noah the box of the cleaning equipment. "Well done. If you could just go out to the yard to Rick and he'll show you where to put these." She gave the gun in her grip to Monique.

"Thanks, Carol." Noah said with a grin, the two of them making a break for it.

"Excellent, coffee time." Stephen laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

Daryl went for the stairs at that, because no matter what he'd promised, there was no way that prick was going to lay a hand on her.

But he wasn't quick enough. Carol pushed his hand off her at lightening speed, her hand catching his shoulder and making him stumble.

"Do not touch me. Ever. Don't talk to me. I will never make you coffee. I will never do anything for you." Her voice was icy. Daryl had never heard her speak like that, ever. Her hand dropped to her belt, where the knife rested in it's holster and she brushed her fingers over the handle. "I will hurt you if it happens again. Not just to me, but to any of the other people in this prison. Make your own damn coffee."

Daryl reached the bottom of the steps as she uttered the last words, Stephen nodded quickly, looking between them both. At the same time, Rick opened the door to the cell block, the metal creaking, keys jangling and he eyed them curiously.

"Everythin' alright here?"

"Yep." Carol popped the last letter of the word and smiled brightly at him. "Stephen was just saying how he wanted to offer himself up for some work, he think's he could handle some laundry, right, Stephen?" She didn't wait for an answer, sauntering over to Rick by the door and Daryl trailed after her, crossbow slung over his shoulder. "I'm going to get some coffee, fancy a cup?"

Rick shook his head and she shrugged as she walked away.

"Damn, remind me not to get on your bad side." He grumbled and she laughed, her tinkling voice echoing all the way back down the corridor.


End file.
